


In which this is a draft of Hold On

by suchabeautifuldisaster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1651538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchabeautifuldisaster/pseuds/suchabeautifuldisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>literally one draft of many of hold on that i have yet to finish. if this gets, i don't even know, any views, i'll try to continue the scene and see where it goes where i'm thinking it will. set a year and a half later. a harem of dark witches comes to town. turns out chris argent is on their shit list from something he did years ago. hasn't said what he did, but feels as if he should die for what he's done. the pack steps up to fight for him, and also the fact that said dark witches have been wrecking havoc on the town and doing human sacrifices, for which they don't know yet. so hereeeee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which this is a draft of Hold On

“Don’t. Just don’t, okay? Don’t give up on her,” She says, the words coming out strangled. He looks at her, as if she’s something odd, tilting his head and crossing his arms over his chest.

She keeps going anyway, because she can’t stop now, and she wants him to understand. “You don’t get it. If she loses you… it’s everything. It’s a part of herself that she’ll never get back. And I know what you’re thinking right now, that she’ll be sad, she’ll grieve, and move on. She’ll think of you as a distant, happy memory. But it’s not like that. She can’t just compartmentalize the pain like you do. She’ll break. There’ll be, like, this crack in her heart that will never be fixed. It’s not the type of thing you just put a bandaid over. It’s permanent, an open wound.” She sniffles, and rubs at her eyes. Damnit, she’s crying. Of course.

His face, one that’s usually composed and hard as stone, is now more vulnerable than she’s ever seen it. The icy glare of his eyes has melted, and it takes everything in her to hold that stare. She almost doesn’t want to, because it’s painful.

“What else am I supposed to do?” His gruff voice _shakes_ , and it terrifies her. He’s Chris Argent, he’s always supposed to be one step ahead, always collected, always having a plan, always… sure.

This is not the man she knows. In his place is an actual _human being_ , with flaws and mistakes and doubtful of himself.

She doesn’t really have an answer for him. Her speech is done, what she wanted to say has been forced out of her mouth. She’s done what she could for Allison. She did what should’ve been done for her boyfriend, for Scott, years ago.

She sucks in a deep breath, and shoves her hands further into her jacket pockets. “Fight, I think. Fight to survive. Fight for her.” That’s what she would want, if her parents were facing death. Fight for their lives, because she thinks in the end, that’s all we can really do. _Fight_.

He shuts his eyes, and sighs. It’s a rough, suffering sound, and not for the first time she feels a pang of sympathy for the man that holds everything inside of him because he’s afraid of the explosion if he lets out so much as a whisper.

She’s seen the cold-hearted hunter, the over-protective dad, the grouchy man at the grocery store, and the loyal husband at the cemetery. But this version of him, She thinks, is the one she likes the most. It’s the one who kisses the top of hers and Ally’s head as he stumbles in for breakfast, with rumpled hair and a pillow crease decorating his cheek. It’s the one who helps out with pack training and even cracks jokes with Derek, of all people. It’s the one who thinks that no one sees it, but tries so hard to do things right, to think things through and find the right solution.

And now, it’s this one again, this man, who is struggling with the huge weight on his shoulders and is very close to letting it crush him.

“Just fight, Chris. You aren’t alone. You have all of us,” She adds quietly, hoping to break through to him, hoping that he’ll open his eyes, and straighten his shoulders. And fight.

He finally does open his eyes, and they’re definitely more controlled than they were minutes ago, but now that She’s seen it, the traces of the real him still linger.

He opens his mouth to speak, and then the door opens with a _bang!_ , causing her to jump and spin around on her heel in surprise.

“What are you guys doing in here?” Lydia asks, flipping her braid over one shoulder. She flicks the colt in her hand experimentally, a nervous habit of hers, before tucking it back inside it’s holster. Boyd and Jackson follow close behind her, transformed and looking ready to kill. They both spare her a nod, and she nods back, placing a small smile on her lips and hoping it’s not too fake.

She opens my mouth to respond, but Chris beats her to it as he reaches for his jacket over the chair. “Nothing, just discussing strategy. Calico, here-” She barely has time to hold out her hands when he tosses her a gun similar to Lydia’s. She clutches it with trembling fingers, her heart filling with dread as the coldness of the metal seeps into her skin. He slips his jacket over his shoulders and walks towards the door. As he passes her, he squeezes her shoulder, tight and firm. She meets his eyes, and they tell her everything she needs to know.

He’s going to fight. Till the very end.

Her smile turns genuine, and he breaks the stare, leaving her behind. She reaches over for the correct holster on the desk, feeling three pairs of eyes on her the whole entire time. She doesn’t say anything, knowing that by now she should wait for one of them to ask first. Her bets on Lyds. She remembers the curiosity in her tone from seconds ago. Just as she slips the gun in the holster and clips it to her jeans, her voice breaks through the silence.

However, it’s not what she expected her to say.

“Are you ready? Everyone else is outside.” She says cooly, all business. She turns around, already tugging at the hair tie on her wrist.

“Yep, ready as I’ll ever be.” She responds, pulling her hair back and up as she moves towards them. Lydia nods, and the other two boys head out, them following behind. She presses her shoulder to Callie’s, and she presses back. Even though the four of them look like a solid, steady unit, scary even, they are a mix of nerves and anxiety.

They don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. Lydia has made up boards, she’s done the stats and the math. She’s calculated how they should attack and where. She’s found our best situation in order for them to win. On paper, this looks very, very easy.

It’s when it gets to the real life stuff that complications and bleeding wounds happen.

She smooths her hair over her head, making sure that she doesn’t have to fix it. That there’s no bumps or loose ends. That at least in this mundane task, nothing can go wrong.

Because everything go could up in flames tonight. No pun intended. Their whole lives are at stake.

And yet right now her parents think she’s having a sleepover at Allison’s tonight, safe and sound. If only things were that simple. But her life hasn’t been simple for a really long time.

The night air is cool and crisp, the wind ruffling their hair and making them shiver. Derek and Stiles are by the camaro, heads bent close and whispering. Isaac’s leaning against the jeep, but he pushes himself up when he sees them. There’s no faking her smile as he comes closer, and her hands reach out for him, seeking his warm skin and gentle touch. Her whole body sighs in relief when their fingers tangle together, and then he’s ducking his head down, and she only has to go on her tip-toes just a little bit, just enough… for her lips to meet his.

It’s a quick kiss, a reassurance that they’re both here in this moment, that they’ve done this before. That everything might be okay.

They don’t know that, but as her lips move against his, his body relaxes next to Callie’s, the tension thrumming within him loosening just a bit.

She sighs, pulling away just enough so that they’re just holding hands. He squeezes her fingers tight, almost too-tight, but it’s okay. She tries to squeeze back just as hard, showing him that _I’m here, and yes, I’m scared too_. His only response is to kiss her cheek, and then tug her closer.

“Where’s Ally and Scott?” She murmurs, looking up at him. Isaac’s eyes map out every feature of her face, as if he’s trying to remember everything as it is. She almost shoves him, telling him to stop, that they’re going to get through this, when he says, “They’re at Deaton’s, grabbing something from him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, they should be here soon, though. Probably not too long now,” He babbles lightly, but she hears the undercurrent of worry underneath. Always worried about all of them, wanting to know if they’re okay and if there’s anything he can do. It’s a part of him, this overprotective, sensitive side, but she feels a pang of anger towards the man who always made him feel like he should always be doing something, that he should always be on edge.

In times like this, this side of Isaac is amplified, infecting the pack with it’s buzzing, never-ceasing anxiety. Callie already feels it, deep in her bones, and knows that as long as he’s like this, she will be as well.

“Hey, guess what?” She manages in a teasing voice. She spins and faces him, grabbing his other hand. He blinks, shocked at her change in mood, but his lips tug up in a tiny smile. She stretches up on her tip-toes, meeting him nose-to-nose as he ducks his head.

“What?” He whispers against their lips.

“ _I_. _Love_. _You_.” She says between each kiss, and he laughs, winding an arm around her waist. It’s a quiet, private sound that makes her insides turn into jelly and wish that not for once, they were just a boy and a girl. Nothing less, nothing more.

But as his kiss turns a little needy and just a slight edge of desperate, his mouth searing her own, she knows she wouldn’t change a thing. Not when she’s kissing him back with the same need, feeling like this could be the last night they’ll be alive and wanting to spend forever with a boy who she never really noticed a year ago.

“Get a room you too!” Jackson hollers, and Callie pulls away with a giggle, feeling her cheeks flush. Leave it to Jackson to bring them back to reality. As if him and Lydia weren’t nauseating at all. Isaac groans, leaning his forehead against hers for a moment, before peering over her head.

“I’ll remember that the next time you and Lyds insist on having the laundry room door closed because you guys have ‘meaningful conversations’,” Callie feels his smirk and the shaking of his shoulders, and snorts. Boyd’s loud guffaw is heard, as well as Erica’s cackle. Callie knows without a doubt that Lydia is shaking her head while Jackson’s face flushes a very unattractive shade of red.

“Just wait till training, Lahey-” Jackson’s half-assed threat is cut off by the twin grumpy responses of Stiles and Derek’s “ _Shut it,_ Jackson.”

Jackson’s sputtering and Erica’s ribbing floats away as Isaac’s lips brush her ear. Callie shivers, snuggling in closer.

“Guess what?” He lightly drags his mouth down the skin of her jaw until his lips meet hers once again. Her fingers creep up his back, curling into his leather jacket.

“What?” She says against his mouth, trying not to smile.

She squeals in surprise as he dips her, hiding her face in his chest as her sense of gravity is abruptly shifted. He keeps her steady and close, his quiet laugh back and curling around her ear like her favorite song. Then, there’s a large hand with long fingers cupping her cheek, gently moving her head so that they’re face to face.

“You’re my girl.” He whispers, grinning as if it’s some top level secret that everyone else is dying to know. Much to the moaning of their pack, they do know. Callie feels very shy in that moment, but keeps her eyes on his. She can’t help herself, she’s already getting lost in those blue eyes that have become her home in a way nowhere else could. Even after he’s told her this so many times… those words still cause her heart to race and her brain turn to mush.

Damn him. Damn him and his adorable curls and sharp jaw and mesmerizing eyes and pink cheeks…

Before she even realizes it herself she’s kissing him again, her hands sliding up and into his hair. He sighs, a deep, contented sound that causes her to shiver in it’s wake.


End file.
